


Lovers Living, Lovers Dead

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [75]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spirits of the dead begin visiting the residents of Sunnydale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovers Living, Lovers Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published August 18, 2005
> 
> Takes place more than a week after War Has Come Upon Us and in place of the episode Conversations with Dead People. [](http://mydeira.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mydeira.livejournal.com/)**mydeira** was a godsend in helping me keep on track with this one.

As Joyce listened, Ethan’s recorded voice spoke to her over the phone line. “I’m not able to take your call. Leave a message.”

With a sigh, she hung up the phone. The few days Rupert expected to be gone had turned into more than a week. In that time, he had called twice, once to let them know he had made it safely to London and once two days later to tell them that, as expected, the Council had no intention of cooperating, so he would have to get the information he needed the hard way. That had been five days ago.

Ethan kept telling her not to worry, but she really couldn’t help it. She could almost feel a palpable tension building in the world around her, a sensation that had become all too familiar over the last few years. With Rupert gone and Spike living in her basement and whatever was coming, she just needed to know everyone was safe.

Knowing Rupert, though, his silence most likely was unintentional. Ethan had given him the phone but not the charger. After this long, the battery had almost certainly drained, and he would have no idea of how to recharge it himself.

“Rupert always was hopeless with technology,” a female voice said from behind her.

Joyce whirled to find a woman standing in her living room, standing with her hip cocked and her arms crossed over her chest, a small half smile curving her lips. She looked to be ten years younger than Joyce, sooty eyes and dark hair untouched by the effects of age. There was something familiar about her that Joyce couldn’t pin down. “Who are you?” she asked defensively. “What are you doing in my house?”

“I’m hurt, Joyce,” the woman teased, stepping forward with a dancer’s grace. “You came to my funeral and everything.”

It being Sunnydale, there had been too many funerals over the years. But there had been one . . . “You’re that teacher of Willow’s, aren’t you? The one who was killed at the school.”

“Well, that describes half the faculty,” the woman responded with a wry smile, “but yes, that’s me. Jenny Calendar.” She extended her hand.

Joyce reached out automatically to take it, only to have her hand pass through without resistance, without any sensation at all.

“Sorry about that,” Jenny apologized, wiggling her fingers in demonstration. “I still forget about that ghosty thing.”

“Why are you here?” Joyce asked again.

“I’ve come to warn you, Joyce.” She moved a step closer, her voice intense. “Things are coming. Bad, bad things. And I’d hate to see Rupert let it take you the way he did me.”

Cold fear gripped Joyce. “What are you talking about?”

Jenny’s expression turned sympathetic. “Didn’t he tell you, Joyce? Doesn’t he talk about me anymore? Didn’t he ever mention how he left me alone in the school that night, working desperately on a project to try to make him trust me again? How Angelus found me and killed me and left me as a present in Rupert’s bed?” She studied Joyce critically. “You know, I don’t think he ever did replace that mattress. You sleep in that bed, don’t you, Joyce?”

“Stop it!” Joyce backed away, the spirit’s words horrifying her.

“Something bad is coming, Joyce, and where’s Rupert?” She followed, not letting Joyce escape, her words hard and blunt. “He’s gone. Left you all alone to face it while he’s off somewhere safe. Just like he did to me. Just like he did to Ethan when he put him in the hospital.”

“How do you know about that?” Joyce was getting confused. The woman kept jumping from point to point, with knowledge someone dead five years shouldn’t have. She tried to focus, but Jenny just kept on.

“Because I’m dead, Joyce. There aren’t any secrets from me anymore.” Jenny slowly began circling Joyce, the incorporeal leather of her jacket creaking as she moved. “He didn’t wait very long after I was dead before he moved on to you, did he?” She shook her head sadly. “I wonder how long he’ll wait after he puts you in the ground. Or maybe he’ll go first. He’s so clumsy, you never know.” Leaning close, she whispered cruelly in Joyce’s ear, “Good thing you’ve got a spare, huh?”

Jerking away, Joyce snatched up the phone and had already punched in Ethan’s speed dial before she realized there was no dial tone.

Jenny just laughed, a soft, cruel sound. “Your wizard can’t help you, either, honey. His magic is a pittance against mine. There’s nothing in this world that can stop me.”

In desperation, Joyce threw the phone at the shade, but it simply passed through and smashed on the fireplace beyond.

The ghost of Jenny Calendar shook her head in disgust. “If that’s the best you can do, I really don’t have anything to worry about. I can’t imagine what Rupert ever saw in you. Weak, pathetic, useless old woman.” She sneered.

“You aren’t her,” Joyce insisted, feeling old insecurities aching again inside her. “You can’t hurt me.”

“No, I’m not her. I never knew the soft touch of his kisses, the comfort of his bed. But she did.” Jenny eyes narrowed as she continued in cruel curiosity. “Ever wonder if he thinks of her when he’s enduring the touch of your tired, sagging self? Or what he did with Willow and her tight, young body all that time he was gone?”

“He wouldn’t do that. He loves me,” Joyce insisted, fighting down her rising panic.

Jenny rolled her eyes and threw up her hands in disgust. “See, that’s the mistake you good guys all make. Love doesn’t conquer all, honey. It’s just going to make it that much easier for me to pick you off one by one.” Backing up, Jenny put one fist on her cocked hip. “Enjoy the things you hold precious, Joyce, because they’re going to start slipping through your fingers. If I haven’t started taking them already.” Her expression turned falsely innocent, her eyes still glittering cruelly. “Where _do_ you suppose Rupert has gotten to?”

And with that, she vanished.

“No!” Joyce screamed, dashing to the now empty space, turning to search the room in desperation. “You tell me where he is! Come back here! God damn you, give him back!”

But nothing answered her except silence and the staccato pounding of her own heart.


End file.
